I was excited to return to my old haunt: Suburbanite Roller Rink. I hadn’t been there since I had first met Miguel 2 Tuff and Poppin’ Giovanni and had caught my first glimpse of breakin’ in real life. It felt like so many moons ago upon my return to the rink, but really it had only been a couple of months.
All of us NSR’s were going up there that night and it was going to be a stone gas! I got to the rink early as usual, but this time, I didn’t even bring my skates, which felt strange; I even felt a little naked not having roller skates in my hands. I must have gone to Suburbanite roller rink a thousand times and every time I had skated from open to close. Now I was entering the rink as a breaker. I was there to break, dance, and just straight up rock it. And gawk chicks of course.
Even though breakin’ had preempted my skating I still liked watching everyone skate. I sat down on the bench for a bit and watched some of the skaters whizz by for old time sake. Some of them were speed skating, some of them were spaghetti leggin’, and some of the dudes were throwing down their macks on the chicks, because that’s what the rink was:a meat market first and a roller skating center second. It made me feel good for some reason to see that skating was still alive and well, even though I didn’t really care about it anymore.
I was chill-axin’ and waxin’ nostalgic and just waiting for my crew to arrive when it occurred to me, now that I was a straight up B-Boy I no longer cared about fitting into the skate rinks “in crowd.” I was feeling tough in my own right. And not the tough guy kind of tough, but Tall B-Boy, all Chicago tough. I was feeling like I was twenty feet tall while I was sitting down in the shadowy rink benches watching these skaters whizz by. I knew they couldn’t rock the breakin’ floor like me and that made me feel cool. My NSR crew and I were our own, “In crowd.” Not intentionally or anything either, we were just cool, without even trying and that’s just the way it was.
As I was sitting on the bench maxxin’ out and scoping out the scene, a slow song changed the mood of the grooving rink floor. In a deep and slow sexy voice, the rink DJ said, “Couples skate only, that’s right couples skate only,” to my surprise Witty Dee and Muffy took the floor. I didn’t even know Witty was going to be up there that night – that’s how out of touch we had become, yet we were still “buds.”
Witty Dee was skating backwards and Muffy was holding his hips as they skated around lovey-dovey and smiling at each other to, “Faithfully” by Journey. I yelled out, “Witty Dee” at the top of my lungs but he didn’t see me. He kind of looked around a bit, but gave up looking after a while.
After they were out of my line of sight, a weirdo was skating by with his couples skating partner. He was probably about twenty years old, sporting a fro; he was a white boy sporting the fro. It was 1984 and somebody forgot to tell him that froes for white boys had died out in the 70’s, the day they were born they had died out; froes for white boys were in and of themselves: stillborns. Some white boys could rock the froes fow show like, “Greg from the Brady Bunch” and such, but most white dudes, just couldn’t rock it.
Anyway, this weird and dowdy afro-ed dude with unkempt facial hair somehow managed to have a girlfriend. (One of those “opposite attracting couples” I had told you about earlier.) The six foot something, jean overall wearing, perverted smiling guy was skating backwards with his “girl” who appeared to be about my age; fourteen or fifteen.While they were couples skating, this dude was holding her shirt by the neckline. She was wearing a regular kind of t-shirt, nothing too low cut or anything, but the weirdo, lecherous afro dude was grasping her shirt at the collar and neckline with his fingertips and pulling it a few inches away from her body to give him a bird’s eye view right down her shirt. He was peering down her collar with this very lecherous look on his scruffy face. He looked very perverted – she looked shy. He made me want to vomit Olympic sized swimming pools filled with puke; he was that creepy. He was so creepy, I felt molested and I was only the innocent bystander.
I mean, couldn’t he have done his gawking of his chicks tits in the shadows at least? Where he could have kept it on the down low and not looked like such a dirty bastard. The girl was “girl next door” cute and she seemed so passive about it all. It really felt funny - watching this freak frolic his female’s fabrics. It felt funny as Eff to be honest with you. Hey, I can be a rubberneck like the next guy but this dude really made the whole thing look cheap.
I yelled out randomly, “Lose the zero and find a hero,” but I’m not sure either one of them heard me. I just hope that if she didn’t want him doing all that staring at her boobs thing, that she would find a way to get away from him and then tell someone, like her friend or her mom or something. I hated to see this girl get taken advantage of. She looked so innocent.
Witty Dee and Muffy finally spotted me and waved as they did another couples skate lap around. I stood up immediately after they had passed me because I had simultaneously noticed a couple of dudes walking with a bop-hop to their step that told me: they owned the floor that they were walking on.
I shouted out as I exited the shadows of gawking, “NSR in the emmer effin hiz-ouse” The music was too loud so none of them really heard me though. A bunch of them had walked in at the same time: Blazin', Kid Mojo, Jet Drinkwater, and Slim Jim, who was actually the first one I had noticed, even though he walked in 4th. He was just that Big and tall, that’s all.
“Sup y’all?” I said to the bunch.
Blazin' came running up to me, “Sappenin’ Swift my man? Suppp???” Blazin' said in his usual pumped as all eff sort of way. He said everything in an excited way in case you haven’t figured that out yet.
I energetically shook his hand and said, “What took you guys so long?”
“We were all waiting outside for everyone to show up. I kept trying to get everyone inside but nobody wanted to come in, everyone wanted to hang outside,” Brock said. He had said it in a way that I could tell that he had probably bugged everyone to death about going inside, the whole time they were outside.
I told Blazin', “Witty Dee’s here with his chick … and Chi girl will be up here later.”
“Witty’s here, awww, cool man, I haven’t seen that mug in a minute,” then Blazin' made a “W” shape with his lips and said, “Cool is the rule – We are all Chicago Bro … Tall Chicago, NSR is here.” He had said it like a millionaire, so I had to high five him.
Then he sort of complained, “…They all wanted to walk in at the same time and make some ‘big appearance’,” he said mockingly, “so we hung out outside like a bunch of dildos. It took me forever to get them to come in,” he said with this distressed look on his face.
Kid Mojo broke into Brocks and my conversation with a tough Chicago, crossed arms pose while nodding with a playful smug smile, “We’ll mess anybody up,” Mojo said playfully for no particular reason.
Then Slim Jim shook my hand and started Poppin’ as the slow jams had ended. Couples skate ended and, “Give it to me baby” by Rick James was thumping through the system.
I reached into my backpack and started approaching each Neighborhood Street Rocker one by one to pass out their NSR nameplates, which had just come in the mail that day. I had used my own dough to buy them in advance and I hoped they had all brought money with them to reimburse me but you know how that will go. But I didn’t care, after all, I had assembled this crew.
I went to Jet Drinkwater first, donned the “NSR” belt buckle necklace around his neck and said, “NSR is in da house … you’re sportin’ it now.”
“Right on Swift, now I am sportin a tall bozak,” Jet said.
Once everyone had seen that I was passing them out, everyone in our crew started waving me over but Jim just couldn’t wait.
Slim Jim came up to me and randomly said, “Sup Brizzo for shizzow my nizzo, where’s my bling? I want to be king! Do you want to hear me sing?”
“I would rather go to Sing Sing,” I said drolly. (That’s a prison in New York.)
“Fretty Punny, Sonny, now give me the honey,” he said.
“Not until you give me the money Mr. Funny,” I said with a smile. I wasn’t really worried about the dough. I just felt like keeping the rhyme goin’ – you know? Joe Blow, go suck your toe, all the way to mexico. Anyway – So -
He then leaned down and I donned him with his big ass gaudy NSR necklace. Slim Jim’s face lit up like a bonfire, he couldn’t stop staring and grabbing his new “NSR” belt buckle that was now draped around his neck. “I am all Chicago now boyeee,” Slim Jim said effervescently.
In fact, as I scanned all of my comrades I could see that everyone was touching, looking at, or talking about their freshly acquired necklace. We were now unified as the NSR crew.
“AEIOU” by John Rocca started jamming through the speakers, Chi Girl had told me last week that it was her favorite song, so it made me think of her. I began asking some of the boys if they had seen her outside of the rink before they had come in. But no one had seen her yet. But somehow that got Brock back into his big spiel about how long they had to wait outside before they came in. And how it took him forever to convince everyone to come inside and blah blah blase.
“You’re always in a big hurry to go somewhere,” I told him, which made him laugh and walk away.
There was still another ten minutes left on the skate session, and after that, they were going to open up the hardwood rink floor to us breakers and dancers. Meanwhile, Kid Mojo was foot workin’ and swipin’ on the carpeted outskirts of the rink in the very spot where I had first met Miguel and Gio a few months before.
Every time I looked at Slim Jim, he was poppin’, moonwalking, and staring at his new nameplate.
Blazin' was chattin’ with Witty Dee while Muffy had skated off with her “in crowd” friends.
Jet Drinkwater and 2 Tuff were up rockin’ against each other in a ferocious dance battle. 2 Tuff must have just walked in too, since I didn’t even realize he had shown up yet, so I made my way over to him. “Sup my brotha, Mr. 2 Tuff? … Here is your bling,” I said.
“Thanks Mr. Swift, now I’m looking straight up sweet mi hermano,” Miguel 2 Tuff said just before he dove into windmills. It wasn’t until about his fifth windmill that his necklace had flown off him, I picked it up and handed it to him after he was done.
I saw a girl with VERY blonde hair that almost made her look brow-less; she was that blonde. But that only made me think about Bob. I thought for a moment and wished in a happy way that it would have been cool if Boogie Bob could have been with us that night. He would have dug all of the excitement in the air for shizzow. But before I could get too sentimental about it, in came Chi Girl. She came with a couple of her girlfriends; one on each arm; they had strolled in like best buddies. They were casually struttin’ their stuff, looking from side to side, yet they seemed to only be interested in each other’s company, not in a stuck up way, just aloof was all. I don’t think they had spotted any of us, since we had moved away from the entrance a bit in anticipation of the rink floor opening up to us breakers and dancers.
Chi Girl was walking in the middle of the threesome and it was obvious that every unattached guy in the rink was checking those three out. I’m not even kidding you; half of the guys in the joint had dropped their jaws. Even the girls were throwing jealous glaring scowls at them; perhaps it was no exaggeration to say that every eye in the rink had been on them at one point or another. What I remembered liking the most about it was that they were a part of our crwth; the NSR crew. I was no longer on the outside looking in. I was in; in like Flynn.
They looked as if they had all just came from their gymnastics class because they were all wearing blue and white tight body suits under their just unzipped and opened winter coats. The closer they got to me, the tighter their clothing looked. Whether they were trying to or not, they were inadvertently passing out boners left and right. They were that kind of hot. I had never seen Chi Girl look that way before, with her hair done all sexy and her aloof swag and all.
The threesome walked up to me first, Chi Girl hugged me and said, “Hey.”
“What izzz doing girl?” I said as I reciprocated her body as the two of us made an upside down “V” shape out of our hug. It was a hug that was opposite to Diana Woodgrows hug, (you know, the girl that had knocked my books out of my hand.)
One of Chi Girls friends was sporting pig tails and a sweaty face that I guessed was due to their gymnastic practice. She just stood by Chi Girls side and smiled with coyness, practically looking at nobody, while Chi Girls other friend that was sporting a pony tail, looked around as if she knew how hot she was. She had made it a point to catch everyone’s eyes that night, just to let them know, that she knew, she was hot. That’s the kind of eyes she had working that night.
Chi Girls’ sweet smelling perfume drew me in and for whatever reason; I started to get capricious. I reached into my backpack, pulled out her NSR nameplate, and then I motioned as if I was going to put it around her neck, which made her bow, towards me.
Then, here’s where I sounded all crazy and such, I said, “Are you ready?” Which made her hunch over even more and then I placed the NSR necklace around her neck and said, “With this bling, I thee wed” and right when I said it, I wished I hadn’t. I knew it sounded corny as all heck, but it was too late. I had already said it.
Chi Girl and her coy pig tailed buddy, whom was still standing next to her, laughed this corny old oink snort of a laugh right through her nose. One of those laughs that made me wonder if she needed a tissue to clean her nose. But to be honest with you, this worked out perfectly. This made me feel better about the corny ass line that I had just used. When some hot ass chick starts snot snorting through her nose with laughter, it makes you feel better, if you know what I mean.
“Nice laugh Tabitha,” Chi Girl said with a derisive laugh, which made her turn red and look even coyer than before.
It’s funny what tight clothing can do to a guy’s brain sometimes, so I had to think for a moment for something to say but I couldn’t think of anything.
Chi’s other friend with the “I know I’m hot eyes” was wrestling her tight coat off when she looked at me and uttered, “Hi, I’m Sabrina,” and then she stared at me squarely which kind of made me nervous; the kind of nervous where I almost forgot to say hi back to her.
I thought to myself: don’t say anything stupid, so I went with, “I’m Phil,” which earned me a hug from Sabrina.
“I’m sorry, by the way, these are my friends Tabitha and Sabrina, we are on the same gymnastics team. In fact we just came from gymnastics class tonight.”
“Yeah, I think I remember seeing your buddies that day of the Big Burger contest,” I said.
“Yep they were there,” she said as both of her friends nodded in agreement and smiled.
“You wear your hair like that to gymnastics class?” I asked curiously, since Chi Girls hair was all dolled up.
The three of them shyly laughed until Tabitha jumped in and said, “You should have seen us girls, combing our hair, spraying our hair, lip glossing like mad, and primping and everything in our compact mirrors in the dark back seat of her mom’s car on the way here.”
“You’re all looking hot as Eff, “I said but then I couldn’t think of anything else to say. I’m telling you, contour hugging clothing can really make a guy lose his mind sometimes. And this was one of those times.
“Tabitha and Sabrina really wanted to come up here and watch us break, is that cool?” Chi Girl asked.
“Absolutely that’s cool,” I said in this Sauvé, cool cat, Rocky Balboa voice, and then I spoke without my filter again, “We Neighborhood Street Rockers could use some groupies, so I’m glad you came to watch us.”
The three of them giggled like the school girls that they were when Blazin' finally swept into our banter with his trademarked huge and cheesy grin. I was glad to see him. He joined our confab, just in time too. I was one of those guys that definitely needed a wing man. I was running out of things to say to be honest with you. Girls in tight clothing can really make me forget what to say, you know.
Blazin' started chatting to Chi Girl about her new NSR nameplate like it was a million dollar piece of jewelry, when she joked that she had just received a marriage proposal. But she winked at me, so I figured we were all good. Then just as I was going to hit on Tabitha, which means I was probably going to say HI and then walk away. Slim Jim muscled his way into a conversation with her about how he liked her laugh, which he had heard over the rinks music, even though he had been ten feet away at the time. It turns out, she always snorted loudly as she laughed. Every time she laughed she sounded like an elephant was yelling out of her nose. She laughed about everything too, even if it was just KIND of funny. I heard Jim tell her that he “liked her laugh” again but I could tell that he was really busting on her, but I don’t think she caught that. But they got along famously anyway.
Sabrina started an impromptu staring contest with me, which made me tell her out of nervousness that I felt like busting out with some breakin’, “Watch this girl,” I said with swag. I started top rockin’ in a coquettish sort of way while requiting Sabrina’s deep dark seductive stares. Now you see, If I was top Rockin’ - I could stare any girl down, but if I was standing around doing nothing, I would get sort of nervous.
Once she broke eye contact, I kicked my legs into the air and landed into fast rotating windmills. I could hear random girls screaming, in girly-girl shrieks that had given me even more impetus to keep on rotating my windmills around, which eventually transformed into nutcrackers.
I heard in the background one of the guys from my crew yell, “Yeah boyee, wind ‘em up, wind ‘em up!”
Then another yelled, I think it was Slim Jim, “Uh oh, Swifty’s getting it goin’!”
I sprung to my feet and as I gained my bearings again, I heard murmurs of either Tabitha or Sabrina saying, “He was good.”
And,” That was cool.”
And that really grew my swag, if I’ve really got to brag.
Just as my dizziness had worn off, Bruiser had entered the building. I saw him go through the rinks turnstiles as he handed the rink guard his ticket to get in. I spotted him from a mile away, which wasn’t really like me; I was as blind as a bat sometimes. I didn’t always trust my vision from that far away. But how many guys do you know that are a dead ringer for Jesus Christ himself that also wear B-Boy regalia? I knew of one, so I Yelled out, “Yo Bruiser, sup my brother from a different mother?” he was still kind of far away, but I had yelled it pretty effin’ loud.
Bruiser had waited a few seconds to get closer to me, and then he retorted, “I’m just chill like my main man Phil who fits the bill for real …. Sup dude,” he said while laughing coarsely. Then he shook my hand and said, “Looks like everybody made it.”
Then in synchronicity, we both said, “Except for Bob.” It was as if Dan had read my mind.
I was out of breath from the breakin’ I had just rocked, so I told Dan, “Give me a minute.” I went over towards the bench where my backpack was, so I could get Dans’ nameplate. Sabrina was busy talking to Tabitha but she stared me down the whole walk over, which was something I wasn’t really all that used to, to be honest with you. I really sucked at picking up girls if I’ve got to tell you the truth, but I was starting to find out that being a b-boy and good at breakin’ had its perks.
I handed Bruiser his NSR nameplate and he remarked, “Dude this is strilla sweet my nilla, thanks B!”
“Now you’ve got some straight up bling … now go do your thing,” I said.
“How long did it take you to come up with that rhyme?” he asked.
“At least I didn’t say to you, with this bling I thee wed,” I said as I was still feeling strange about it.
“Who the heck did you say that to?” he asked as he scanned around the room until he blurted out uproariously, “You mean you straight up said that to Chi Girl? For strilla my nilla, straaaaight up?”
He couldn’t stop laughing the more he had thought about it. You see, Dan was used to me saying crazy ice shee-ott and putting my foot in my mouth and stuff, so he really got a big old bang out of it. Once he stopped laughing he said, “Dude, don’t go using your own pick up lines … just stick to the Tom and Jerry cartoon pick up lines that you’re always messing around with, like that, ‘Is you is or is you aint my baby,’ stuff. At least maybe that way, you’ll sound half way decent.” Dan said just to mess with me. Then again, maybe he was serious.
Then he laughed some more and added, “Don’t go off on your own, that doesn’t do anybody any good … No, I mean it, the only way you are going to pick up any girls is if you stick to cartoon character pick up lines,” he said with a stone face. Then he busted out with more coarse laughter just to throw salt into my wounds. He must have laughed for an hour but I really didn’t care all that much. I can totally laugh at myself most of the time. After all; I know I say corny ice shiznit.
Out of the blue, Bruiser remarked, “But dude, whatever you did say, you must have done something right because all three of those schmoe diddly okin’ gals are scoping you out big time. They are scoping you like a dog scoping a bone,” he said. (He was talking about Chi and her buddies.)
“Did you say I am bad to the bone?” I asked in jest.
“Easy there Romeo,” he said.
Then Bruiser lowered his tone and got this serious look on his face, “I’ve got some news for you guys. Are you ready?”
“Yes,” I said curiously with a hint of reluctance.
“No dude for real, are you ready?” he asked again with a brighter face.
I wiped the playful demeanor off my face and said, “Wazup dude?”
“Two of my buddies happened to be chillin’ in the lot outside this joint, they are both breakers, and I know them from school. I talked to them, just before I had come in here. I told them I might have some boys inside the rink that are looking to get into a break battle. And when they heard me say ‘battle’ they got all gruff and excited. I know them from school, they’re cool and everything but they get a little cocky and loud sometimes. Anyway B., they’ll be in, in a few minutes to battle you all,” he said casually.
“Do I know them? What are their names?” I asked half paying attention.
“The B-Boys I just told you about?” he asked, “Their names are Rockefeller and Speedy G. They’ll be in soon to throw on down. Go tell all of the boys … and girl; there is going to be a battle tonight fo-show!”
My jaw dropped to the floor, I think I may have even had an out of body experience to tell you the truth. My face felt flush and even though I was still standing upright, it felt like my body had collapsed to the ground. I asked Bruiser out of shock, even though I knew I had already heard him, “Did you say Rockefeller and Speedy G?”
“Yay dude,” he said with a smug smile. Then he grinned bigger as he understood that I had practically just crapped my drawers. “Sup B?” he asked with sincere curiosity. (At that point, I had never told him about Lincoln Center.)
So, I told Bruiser the condensed version about Blazin's and my experience at the Lincoln center that fall day after school when we had first met Rockefeller and Speedy G.
“His bark is louder than his bite, he’s just here to break my man, he’s cool,” Dan reassured me.
“I guess I better start telling all of the NSR’s that we’ve got a battle brewing,” I said as I took a deep breath.
I stolidly walked over to Miguel 2 Tuff and told him, “We are going to be battling some bona fide bad to the bone B-Boys tonight named Rockefeller and Speedy G – so get ready – Bruiser hooked it up,” I said like a coach. Then I asked Miguel where his bro was, since I usually saw them together.
He told me he was in the parking lot having a square and chatting up some chicks. I thought about telling him that smoking sucks, but I refrained. Miguel didn’t smoke and Gio wasn’t the sort to preach to, so I didn’t plan on saying anything to him when he got in anyway. Some people you just can’t say that sort of thing to, unless you enjoy talking to yourself.
Miguel almost looked a little nervous though; “I thought Gio would have been in already,” he said while he looked at the rinks turnstiles.
“Well, you said he’s talking to girls … you know how that player rolls,” I said to reassure him.
We both tacitly knew that at any given moment trouble could be brewing outside in the rinks parking lot; I must have seen a fight in the rinks lot at least every other weekend, going way back to the first day I started hanging there.
As I was telling Miguel that we had an impending battle, the rink DJ turned on the lights and announced that the skating session was over. All of us B-Boys knew what that meant; that meant as soon as the skaters could get off the floor, we breakers and dancers could take over the rinks hardwood for the rest of the night. It was on: on like Donkey Kong; that was the plan like Pac Man.
Miguel flashed his magnetic smile while coincidentally Poppin Gio came walking in, wearing a tough gray turtle-neck sweatshirt that had black cursive letters that read, “FANDANGO.”
“Sup with this Fandango business?” I asked him.
Gio looked at me all serious and said, “Sup man, I go by the name of Fandango now.”
I looked over at Miguel who shook his head in concurrence.
I looked back to Gio and said, “Your name is Fandango? Where’d that come from? Poppin’ Gio, I mean, Fandango.”
“That’s just my name now Mr. Phil K The funky groove king Swift …You got a problem with that?” he asked in an exaggerated and feigned Chicago accent. Very tough.
“Can Fandango do the fandango?” I asked playfully with a smile as I started to up rock around him a bit, attempting to entice him into an up rock battle.
Fandango replied, “No but I can do the Tango after poontango while eating a mango,” he said while widening his eyes because he finally noticed the threesome of chicks that were hanging with Blazin' and Kid Mojo. “What is going on with that? - Funky Groove king Swift,” he said with lust in his eyes as he peered at the girls.
Like a big older protective brother or a curmudgeon guarding his lawn, I said, “That’s Chi Girl and her buddies … grubby mitts off!”
“I didn’t even recognize her,” he said.
Fandango did a double take of the girls, and then leapt into the air in flip-like fashion, ultimately landing onto the ground into 1990’s. A few cheers from our crew and random rink regulars filled our ears as the artist formerly known as Poppin’ Gio ended his routine.
He landed on his feet with his legs spread wide. As he was closing his legs simultaneously; like a pair of scissors, I said, “Nice bro, Nice 1990’s … on carpet, without anything in your hands to make ‘em slippery. NICE!” I was truly amazed, “I had tried it before on that very same spot where I had torn my palm up with red hot rug burn because of the bare hand and all.”
“I got a lil rug burn too, but it’s all good in the hood. You’ve gotta do what you’ve gotta do sometimes,” Fandango said. Then he marched away militarily and joined Kid Mojo and Blazin’. At least, that was his way of getting over there. Really I knew he had just implanted himself there so he could gawk, hawk, and lay down the mack to Chi Girl and our new “groupies.” That’s how he rolled.
I kind of kept my eyes on Fandango or maybe I was keeping my eyes on Chi girl, like a big brother guarding his little sister. Fandango could tell to, he kept looking over at me with innocent eyes; feigned innocent eyes; and shrugging his shoulders as if he wasn’t doing anything. Heck, I didn’t even say anything to him; he just had a guilty conscience. Either way, he saw my sentinel eyes keeping guard, so he stayed away from Chi Girl.
Even though the other two were “fair game,” I was glad to see that Tabitha had her gawk fixed on me though, because Gio or should I say, “Fandango” really did know how to impress the heck out of the girls with his sharp tongue and everything. He was a genuine Mack daddy. If you looked up “Mack Daddy” in the dictionary there would be a picture of Fandango right next to the word.
I rejoined Fandango and everybody and coolly without saying a word, donned his neck with the NSR plate but I didn’t give him a speech like I had with everybody else. He was too busy trying to sink his hooks into Sabrina, Chi Girls NOT SO shy friend. They both seemed to be smiling their lips off at each other so I didn’t want to mess up his game. If you want to have a wing man you have got to be a wing man, if you know what I’m screamin’?
Plus, I had other things on my mind at that moment; I was on a mission. I approached every last Neighborhood Street Rocker and put them on alert that we had a battle brewing. I probably got a little pedantic too, but I was really taking it serious, that’s all. I told most of them in this coach-like manner to “Get your stretches going and be ready for battle.” I even told a couple of them “Get your game face on,” and I don’t even know what that means.
Chi Girl began stretching out on the floor, probably the way she had always stretched out during her gymnastics class with her legs spread all wide and everything. However, we weren’t at a gymnastics meet, we were surrounded by a bunch of perverts. I could just feel all of the perverts looking a